


The Dance

by wevegotworktodo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 17:51:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7584118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wevegotworktodo/pseuds/wevegotworktodo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt was Garth Brooks 'The Dance'. The reader happens to be a clairvoyant, so what happens when you do know 'the way it all will go'?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dance

Ten minutes ‘til the end of your shift and the hostess tells you she seated another table in your section. “Fuck me!” you breathe out, exhausted from the twelve hours you’ve already been on your feet. 

 

“Lois will you take table three? I’m ready to just finish up and go the hell home.”

 

“Not gunna do it. That one is all you girl.”

 

“Please, you know I’ll cover for you tomorrow.” you pout, crossing your arms like a toddler. 

 

“Hon, have you seen table three?” she pulls you towards the door that leads out into the dining room. “You, my friend, are going to stay and take really good care of them.” you tippy toe to take a peek out through the window. 

 

Holy hell, table three was hotter than a firecracker on the fourth of july. “Ummmm, NO! Lois, you’re insane. I look like shit. I’ve been here all day, and i don’t have the time or the energy to deal with that.”

 

“You look gorg, now just go. You’re wasting time.” she swats you on the ass with a dish towel as she strolls off. You jump, give her one of those side eye looks.  
You straighten your uniform, tuck a few stray hairs behind your ears and take a deep breath. ‘It will be ok, you can do this, one last table then you can go home and crawl in bed.’ You push the door open, pull your pen and pad from your pocket and make your way to the table. 

 

“Drinks guys?” 

 

“Two coffees, black, and I’ll also have a water.” you didn’t even look up, just scribbled on your pad, you knew the water also went to the man to your left, so it didn’t matter. 

 

“Ok, I’ll be right back to get your orders.” 

 

So, you pushed through, managed to just keep your head down, you had no reason to ogle the hotness in front of you. You enter through the door to the kitchen, roll your eyes at Lois when she makes some sort of comment about their table, and set to pouring the drinks.The long shift, coupled with staying up late the past couple of nights writing papers for your college courses had you especially exhausted. You think that maybe if the gods are with you tonight these two will eat fast and you can just go the hell home, tip or no tip.

 

You rush back out of the kitchen, tray filled with their drinks, and make a beeline for your only table. You do glance up this time, smile sweetly when the one with the long hair nods as he picks up his coffee and takes a sip. 

You pick up the second cup, half stoop, half lean, the way you always do to sit it on the table. In your sleep deprived state something doesn’t correlate between your muscles and your brain and before you can make a move to stop it the plastic cup of water tumbles off the tray and into the lap of the other man. 

 

You hastily set the tray down on the table and grab the towel hanging from your back pocket. Before you even think you’re wiping it across his crotch, trying desperately to soak up some of the water and save what little bit of dignity you have left, although at this point minute. 

 

He scoots to the edge of the booth, reaches for the towel, goes to stand, ice cubes falling and shattering on the floor at his feet. Your eyes meet at the same time your hands do. You gasp as your vision fades to white and your head begins to pound. You try to back away from your trigger, but slip in the water on the floor and fall flat on your ass. 

 

The white is only a flash, a precursor letting you know that what you’re seeing isn’t reality, not yet. The rest follows in a mixture of stills and short fast forward scenes. 

 

You see yourself sliding across the bench seat of an older car, turning the radio up, singing along, his hand finding your knee. You smile, look over at him, see his head thrown back, laughing wildly. 

 

You’re gazing into his eyes, slowly leaning into each other. His hand grazes across your cheek, cards through your hair, pulls you in further until your lips meet. You can feel the softness of his lips on yours, taste the whiskey on his tongue as he takes his sweet time exploring your mouth.

 

His face is buried between your legs. He looks up, looks you right in the eye, and grins wickedly. His hand presses into your thigh, spreading you further apart for him. His tongue returns to your sex, dips between your folds, circles your clit, and then there’s stars. 

 

You see yourself screaming, first his name in ecstasy- Dean, his name is Dean- then you’re just screaming, bound and bloodied, and scared as fuck. It’s dark and damp and you seriously doubt that you’ll make it out alive. There’s screaming, lots of screaming, and then more blood. 

 

You’re running, alone in the woods, but this time you’re not scared. Flash to an old cabin, then to what’s inside. A man with fangs- a vampire, God, how do you even know this?- lunges at you and you decapitate him with a machete. Dean’s beside you, killing another then another. 

 

He’s shoving you against the wall in an alleyway, neon bar lights illuminating the scene. You’re tearing at each other’s clothes, fumbling with belts and zippers, desperately seeking a release. A black impala, his impala, is parked only a few feet away, and just for a moment you see the reflection of a slightly older you in the glass. 

 

“I’m sorry Y/N,” he says. The motel room door closes behind him, you’re still in shock, and then it sinks in, you crumple onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

 

Another flash of white, and before you’re brought back to reality 100% there’s a moment of clarity, you just know…

 

Tears are streaming down your face. Sam and Dean are squatted beside you in the floor, but right now all you can focus on is his emerald eyes. They’re beautiful, more so than in your visions, and you already know…not just because you saw the events laid out in front of you, but because you felt it too. You know you love him, the oddest feeling creeping into your bones, telling you this nonsense, but not explaining any of it. You’ve had a few visions before, but none so detailed, none that engrossed you the way these just did. 

 

You continue to stare as he helps you to your feet. He holds out his hand to you to introduce himself. You’re still not thinking clearly, and you both say “Dean” together. 

He cocks his head a little to the side, narrows his eyes, “Do we know each other?” he asks. 

 

“No, I…um…” You look down at the wet floor, eyes shifting to his wet pants, the wet booth and table. You blush, embarrassed of the mess you’ve caused, and he seems to forget easily that you knew his name. “I’m sorry, “ you blurt out, but you’re voice squeaks and is almost unrecognizable as your own. 

 

“No problem sweetheart, accidents happen,” he says, stroking his calloused hand down your arm, and a shiver runs through you. “How bout I change and take you out for a drink to show you there’s no hard feelin’s?”

 

Wow, there is was, hitting you square in the chest like a ton of bricks. How do you even respond knowing what you know? You have to make a decision and fast. There’s already a gravitational pull towards him, and damn you really want to experience everything he has to offer, but you know it’s not going to end well, he will hurt you. 

 

“Sure, why not?”

 

I could have missed the pain 

But I’d have had to miss the dance


End file.
